


Power & Control

by brudawgg, pennydown



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Stern Gets Wrecked in more ways than one, also Dom!Barclay a lil bit, and just ya know what a lot its a lot, and praise kink, i don't know what to tell u, me and pennydown went OFF and suddenly realized we'd written a whole fic, sternclay, this is 19 pages and over 7000 words and most of it is porn you're welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-19 05:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17595194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brudawgg/pseuds/brudawgg, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennydown/pseuds/pennydown
Summary: Barclay practically shoves him down, hovering over him, hand still gripping his tie and a fierce look in his eye."This isn't a game, Stern."Stern’s lip curls, and though a prickle of anxiety sparks in his veins, it doesn’t show, even as he props himself up on his elbows to glare defiantly at Barclay.“What are you going to do? Stop me? So you can hunt monsters in pea-““We’ll make you disappear,” Barclay whispers, cool and calm. “You think we haven’t had to before? You think we’re above getting rid of you? Leaving you out in the woods with one of ‘em?” He’s millimeters from Stern’s face, furious and passionate and Stern nearly wilts.





	Power & Control

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, me and my favorite person pennydown sort of went off in our chat the other night and suddenly realized we had a whole fic typed out between the two of us. So this is our first collaborative effort and I had way too much fun writing it.
> 
> also we're both gonna die on this sternclay ship and don't care
> 
> this is pennydown's warning:
> 
> ok gang this is some depraved shit. this fic has everything:  
> \- d/s. like, heavily. everything is 100% consensual, and they’re both into it. their dialogue gets a little cruel and overtly threatening to each other at times but they do like. genuinely care about each other. they don’t really discuss it beforehand though.  
> \- there’s some choking/breathplay and it is *implied* to be with violent intent but it never gets too bad  
> \- stern is irresponsible and fucks while injured but also this is fiction and nothing is real, no one cares, but don’t do that in reality  
> \- stern is a bratty ass bottom AND sub and no one can convince me otherwise! sorry! sorry! he has no personality in canon! this is who he is!

 

The night had started out fairly normal for everyone at Amnesty Lodge. Off on a couch sat Dani and Aubrey, quietly chatting with the occasional laugh sprinkled in their conversation. Not far away was Jake Coolice, lounging across a chair with Dr. Harris Bonkers in his lap, snoozing. In the kitchen Barclay was making tea, getting ready to wind down for the night. Even forest ranger Duck Newton had stopped by after his shift. Other residents were tending to their usual business around the lodge, with an ease they hadn’t felt in quite some time. This was in no small part due to the fact that tonight Agent Stern was out.

As he had left Aubrey had called out, “Gonna go ‘ _find bigfoot’_ , Stern?” Laughing as she did so, always the one ready to mock Stern it seemed. 

Stern had held back an eye roll as he called over his shoulder, “If you must know, Ms. Little, yes I am.” And slammed the door behind him. Barclay had watched him leave, more or less amused, but he felt bad for the man. Day in and day out being mocked by the very people he was more or less hunting.

The two had been spending free time together, occasionally sharing tea or lunch when everyone was away. Barclay had told himself it was just to keep an eye on him, but over time he’d grown fond of the FBI agent, even if he was a major thorn in everyone’s side. But he enjoyed the man’s attitude, the air of confidence he seemed to have despite everyone telling him how ridiculous his job was. Not to mention his eyes, and that small knowing smile he would get when he knew he was onto _something_. 

Barclay sighed and shook his head, didn’t need to think like that. 

Anyway, now that he was away, the tension was noticeably absent from the lodge. Although, the later it got, the more worried Barclay became. It was almost ten o’ clock now, and usually when Stern went out on these hunts he was back by now.

He shook his head at the thought and continued his business, pouring tea out for the residents.

And then the phone rang.

Barclay poked his head out of the kitchen, wondering who could possibly be calling at this hour. Meanwhile, Duck had been on his way out, about to clip on that ridiculous helmet he’d started wearing, and was the closest to the phone. He shrugged and picked up the phone. 

“Uh, Amnesty Lodge? What can we do ya for?” Duck answered before giving a small laugh, “Should’ve known it was you, Indrid. What’s the problem this time?”

Aubrey and Dani’s conversation had come to halt as they watched Duck, Barclay now fully exited the kitchen to do the same, his stomach suddenly felt like it was twisted into knots. It was never particularly great when Indrid Cold gave them a call.

The forest ranger listened, eyebrows furrowed in concentration before lightly scratching the back of his neck.

“I mean I don’t mean to be _that guy_ , but maybe that’s? A good thing?” There’s a pause before Duck sighs into the phone, “No yeah, I felt bad as soon as I said it, we’re on it. Thanks, ‘Drid.” 

When he hangs up the phone Aubrey’s already on her feet, telling Dani she’ll be _right back, it’s probably nothing_ and Barclay’s at Ducks side, frowning.

“Well?”

"Well,” Duck sighs, “Someone I guess give Ned a call and tell him where to meet us, cause apparently a certain FBI agent is about to get his metaphorical shop wrecked.”

Barclays eyes go wide as Aubrey snorts from beside him.

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” She asks, arms crossed, “He’s such a dick.” 

“Yeah, that’s sorta what I said. But, and these are Indrid’s words,” Duck sighed, “said, ‘ _I realize most of us want him to die but that happens there will be an FBI investigation in Kepler and we probably don’t need that.’_ ” He shrugged then. “And to be honest, feels like a dick move to let the man get killed be one of those things, so…”

“ _Ugh_ , _fine,_ we’ll save him, but I’m gonna complain the whole time.”

Barclay throughout this exchange feels the panic brewing inside him, worried about Stern. He’s already making his way to the door, keys in hand, tugging a jacket on.

“We’ll take my truck, let’s go,” Barclay barked, trying to hide the anxiety in his voice. Aubrey calls out for Dani to call Ned as her and Duck run after Barclay.

Barclay just hoped they weren’t too late.

 

* * *

 

Agent Stern had to admit, he didn’t expect this when he went out in the woods. He had known it was getting late, knew it could be dangerous out there in the pines, but he was _close_. He _knew it_. He had been following a trail and wasn’t going to quit now, especially after that little quip the pompadour girl had made on his way out. Out of all the Amnesty Lodge residents, she was probably the most irritating. The rest just seemed to avoid him for reasons he couldn’t quite figure out yet, but he knew something was up.  
  
Matter of fact, the only one who didn’t seem to actively avoid him was the chef, Barclay. He seemed to actually seek him out, usually to offer tea or polite conversation when Stern was alone. 

It was, admittedly, one of his favorite things. He tried to tell himself it was just because he enjoyed the company, and that the tea was always perfect, but as days passed…well, Stern wasn’t an idiot. He could tell when feelings were forming, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t ignore them. He had a job to do and getting tangled up in some ridiculous romance was not a part of it. Even if Barclay’s big crooked grin and booming laugh made his heart beat like a drum, that wasn’t what was important. 

Finding that god _damn_ Bigfoot was. 

But now, as he lie a crumpled, gasping heap on the forest ground with dirt in his mouth and blood staining his _perfectly good suit,_ he wondered if it was really worth it. He wondered if maybe he could have just stayed at the lodge, could have just had some tea with Barclay.

His thoughts are interrupted as the massive creature made its way over, claws digging into Sterns arm as he lifted him up. He couldn’t make out what it was, he just knew it was all claws and teeth and violence. When the creature had first appeared, he had to admit, his initial thought was pure disappointment that it _wasn’t_ Bigfoot. 

His second was that he was definitely, definitely going to die.

Before the creature could finish him off though another hulking figure slammed into it, knocking Stern from it’s grip as the two silhouettes tumble to the ground. His savior stood up first, and Stern swears to _god_ it’s…what he’s being hunting. Bigfoot was there. There may have been blood and dirt and god knows what else in his eyes, but he had been studying the damn thing for years.

He coughs, feeling himself start to lose consciousness as a voice screams out and fire hits the vicious creature from behind it.

“I said _no fire!_ ”

“Sorry!”

“Oh, _shit_ , that one is nasty! Fellas, I think I should let you handle this!”

Stern knows those voices, especially that last one. It was impossible to mistake Ned “No Inside Voice” Chicane for anything else. What the Hell is going on? 

The last thing Stern sees is Bigfoot hoisting him up over his shoulder, and sprinting away from the fight, where he catches a glimpse of a girl with a flaming red pompadour and a very familiar forest ranger ( _and is he holding a sword, there’s no way he’s holding a goddamn sword_ ).

His last thoughts before blacking out are a semi-triumphant _I fucking knew it._

* * *

 

When everyone was back at the lodge, there was a brief panic of what exactly they were supposed to _do_ with Stern now. They weren’t sure how much he’d seen or if he was going to be okay even. The hospital was absolutely out of the question though, so Barclay took him to the Infurmary and volunteered to keep an eye on him while they figured out what the Hell to do about this situation.

And it’s there, while Barclay’s carefully tending to Stern and stitching up a wound, that Stern wakes up. Barclay had expected him to panic, or at least freak out a little, but instead he merely meets Barclays eyes at _tsks_ at him.

“I knew it.”

Barclay raises an eyebrow, having years of practice at lying now (unlike some people), “Knew _what_? This this hotel _in the middle of nowhere_ has a medical space? Is that some sort of crime, Stern?”

Sterns eyes narrowed, “I _knew_ there was more to this place. I knew there was more to _you._ ” 

Rolling his eyes, Barclay snorted, “I think I liked you better when you were unconscious.”

“Well I liked this whole place better before I knew it was some front for a _cryptid establishment,_ ” Stern hisses.

In response to that Barclay glares at Stern while pointedly yanking extra hard on the stitch he’s working on, earning a shout from the agent, but besides that he remains quiet.

With another roll of his eyes, Barclay goes back to stitching up Stern. “Have you even seen any ‘cryptids’? Any actual suspicious activity? If you must know, we got the supplies from Duck, he is a forest ranger if you remember? Sometimes people are injured and the hospital just isn’t an option, try not to be so paranoid, Stern.” The lies roll off the tongue, perfectly practiced, but Stern _knows_ he’s lying. He just can’t tell why.

“I know what I heard, Barclay. I know what I _saw_. I heard Chicane, and don’t you dare pretend that voice could belong to anyone else and I saw that _fucking fire lady_ and what the _Hell_ is Newton doing with a sword?!”

Barclay glanced at him, frowning, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I went out on a walk and found you. Alone. You we’re messed up pretty bad, the mind does crazy things when you’re like that.”

Stern glared at him, wanted to punch him in his stupid, beautiful face, but was too weak. 

“Now, please, be quiet so I can actually take care of you.”

Stern is so sure something is up, he knows it in his heart, but can’t quite place it. He’s too injured, too groggy, and too caught up in Barclay fussing over him like this. 

God, he hates how much he enjoys the last part, despite the circumstances.

And he especially hates that when he’s quiet and calm that Barclay’s hands become even more gentle. They’re so soft and warm, his stitching is methodical and practiced, and he keeps looking over at Stern with those worried eyes. It makes Sterns heart flutter, and boy _that’s_ not good is it?

He slips back out of consciousness then, too drained to continue bantering with the man, too tired to sort out his thoughts.

 

* * *

  

When he wakes up again he’s in his own room, and he frowns. He needed answers and wasn’t going to sit around and wait for them. Reaching for the phone at his bedside, he paused, looking down at his pajamas.  He sighs at them, feeling undignified, but grabs the phone and dials Barclays number.

“Hello?” 

“What the Hell was all that about? Why we’re you…fussing over me so much?” It wasn’t the question Stern meant to ask, but it was the one that came out. He chastised himself in his own head.

“What are you talkin—“ Barclay sounds flustered, “Stern, we could’ve left you to die from that…cougar. What don’t you understand about that?”

Stern scoffed, “It wasn’t a _cougar,_ wait. We?”

“I meant, uhm, _me_. I meant me.”

“I somehow doubt that,” Stern said with a roll of his eyes. This was getting ridiculous and going _nowhere._ Barclay was being more frustrating than he had ever been and it was lighting off every alarm in Sterns head.

“I don’t see why you’d doubt that—“

“You’re not understanding me,” Stern snapped, getting more and more annoyed.

“Then _explain._ ”

“Why exactly are Ranger Newton and Ned Chicane always fucking here.”

He was met with a deafening click as Barclay hung up on him. Stern scowled at the phone and threw it down with an aggravated yell. If Barclay was going to be an _ass_ then goddammit, he was going to do it to Sterns face. He kicked the covers off and ripped his ridiculous pajama top off, grabbing his nearest button down.

He obviously wasn’t going to be caught puttering around in his pajamas _either._ He slipped on the shirt, buttoning it up, and snatched up a tie. He was getting dressed in the wrong order, but he was angry and ready to lose his mind at how rude and evasive Barclay was being.

As he scoured the room for pants he heard the door open and turned with a start. Barclay entered the room, scowling at Stern as he slammed the door. Stern glanced down at his attire now. Pajama bottoms with a button down shirt and tie. Fantastic.

He should have just kept the fucking sleep shirt on. 

“ _What?_ ” Stern snaps at Barclay, who’s just continuing to scowl.

“You’re the one who clearly wants to have a conversation. So _let’s have it._ ” 

Stern folds his arms, chin raised defiantly at Barclay, eyes narrowed. “I know you’re all hiding something,” he spits at him, “That wasn’t a fucking _cougar,_ Barclay. And _most importantly_ I didn’t see you at all before I woke up here. I saw _Bigfoot_ , and like I told you I saw that goddamn fire lady and I heard Chicane! And you still won’t tell me what Newton is doing with a sword! But where were _you_?”

Barclays eyebrows furrowed at that, "You seriously think you saw Bigfoot?"

"Do _not_ play with me, do not act like the rest of these fucking lodge people. I know what I saw." He points an accusatory finger at Barclay then, “I have been tracking that thing for _years_ , Barclay! I know what it fucking looks like! And I’m sure you all do too, no matter how _coy_ you want to be with me!”

Barclay frowns, lips pressed in a tight line, avoiding Stern’s gaze. He does his best to not be offended by being called a _thing_ , especially by the man he had grown to love. He wonders if that’s really what Stern thought of him.

And he doesn’t say anything then, he doesn’t say anything for a long time. He simply makes way over to the armchair in the room and hides his face in his hands, contemplating. Stern takes a seat on the edge of the bed near Barclay, watching him with a quizzical expression.

Eventually, he speaks.

“What are you _doing_ here, Stern? What do you want to find?”

Stern is taken aback, to say the least. If anything _everyone_ should know that by now.

"To-" He glances at Barclay, "To find Bigfoot. To expose him."

"Why?" Barclay whispers.

Sterns never been asked _why_ before. He frowns, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t _matter_ why, does it?” Which he _knows_ isn’t an answer, but he’s never been asked why, and truth be told he doesn’t _know_ why.

Barclay scowls, he didn’t expect this to be a difficult conversation for _stern-_ but he shakes his head.

“That’s not an answer, Stern, stop avoiding the question,” he says, folding his arms, “So what happens if you _do_ find bigfoot? What is all of this leading up to? A promotion? Proof you were _right?”_

Stern stands then, and even in his ridiculous pajama and tie combo, he looks professional, Barclay thinks to himself as stern storms to the window, slow and precise and _frustrated,_ and stands silently for a while. If they were both going to play the game of being coy, then he was at least going to _win._  

“What is it, that are you all so insistent on me not finding out about? Are you criminals? Poachers?” He’s quietly furious, hands curling into tight fists, even as he keeps his voice level. “I assure you that isn’t what I’m here for. I don’t _care._ But the longer you all avoid me, the longer you walk out of rooms or- or _lie_ to me, the more I start to believe that you are _hiding_ something.”

And Stern is so off-base that Barclay can’t help but laugh, harsh and sharp. Stern whirls on his heel, half expecting a gun to his face— but all he sees is Barclay, calmly seated and twisting his bracelet. “That doesn’t answer my question, agent,” he murmurs.

Barclay clenches his fist, and turns his gaze to Stern. He realizes he doesn’t know where the other mans loyalty lies, doesn’t know _truly_ what his goals are. Sure, to find bigfoot but _why_. 

"Just, why are you here Stern?" Barclay whispers again. He's so tired of all the lies. 

Stern frowns and folds his arms. Inhales, exhales- like he’s trying to focus. “I want the satisfaction of being _right,”_ he whispers, coolly and quietly and it makes Barclay’s hair stand on end. “I want to be _right,_ I want to be _respected._ Is that what you wanted to hear? So you could find out how _pathetic_ I am? Are you _happy_?" Stern practically spits.

Barclay leaves the armchair to sit on the edge of the bed, unsure of how he feels at this point. He knows he cares for Stern, against his and Mama's better judgment. But that key of survival is still there, and despite how much he wants to hold Stern, he truly doesn’t know what would happen if he were to reveal himself.

Stern doesn’t know when Barclay moved. And he still hasn’t spoken, and Stern suddenly feels hysterical, feels like the silence is a _judgment,_ and that stings harder than his wounds do. “I _know_ how fucking insane it sounds! But I have- I have dedicated my _life_ to a mission I was handed as a _punishment,_ and I’m not going to accept having wasted my _time!”_ He stands _over_ Barclay now, still not-quite-shouting in his controlled fury, and when Barclay looks up at him, he _can’t_ hold his soft, concerned eye contact, so he drags his palms down his face. “Go ahead. Humiliate me. God knows everyone else already is, at this poi-“

“What if you were right, but no one else could ever know?”

“... Excuse me?” Stern’s floored. For the first time since he’s _been_ here, Barclay sounds contemplatively sincere, and Stern feels foolish for standing, so he rather tentatively sits on the bed beside him.

“Could you keep a secret? _Would_ you?” Barclay sounds less like he’s speaking to Stern, and more like he’s wondering aloud. The candor is surprising, and Stern finds no words of his own to fill the silence. “What if keeping a secret possibly meant keeping the _whole planet_ safe?”

Stern frowns. “What are you _talking_ about?” He wants to be excited, wants to shout that he _knew_ it, but he’s terrified of startling Barclay off.

“You- I, fuck,” he hisses, then says a word- or a sound- that Stern has never heard before. “I’m just... Deciding how _much_ to tell you.” Barclay feels like he’s going to throw up. Maybe Stern knowing a _portion_ of the truth would have its merits, he thinks, as he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. When he speaks, it’s impossibly low. “We’re- we fight off monsters. Real ones- not… Not bigfoots, but _monsters._ We’re protectors.” His voice is measured and calm, choosing his words carefully. “The thing- well, the first thing- you saw, that was real. And _no one can know,”_ he says, softly. “We don’t know where they’re coming from, or- or why,” he prattles, lies burning his lips like kerosene. “And until we find out what we’re _dealing_ with, no one. Can. Know.” Suddenly he’s got a hand gripping Stern’s tie, tugging him close and snarling in his face. _”Do you understand me, Stern?”_

Stern tries not to but he can’t stop the sharp _gasp_ that falls from his lips when Barclay grabs his tie and it _tightens_ and suddenly all he wants his Barclay’s hand on his throat. But that’s _weird,_ so he just laughs.

“Why should I? Wouldn’t it help you if people knew?”

Another angry tug, another aborted whine from stern.

 _”I’m not kidding,”_ Barclay spits, and the fire in his eyes is tantalizing and _really hot,_ and Stern doesn’t know what to do.

So he laughs again, harsh and cold, "I don't see why I can't just run to my superiors _now_ -"

Barclay practically shoves him down, hovering over him, hand still gripping his tie and a fierce look in his eye. 

"This isn't a game, Stern."

Stern’s lip curls, and though a prickle of anxiety sparks in his veins, it doesn’t show, even as he props himself up on his elbows to glare defiantly at Barclay.

“What are you going to do? _Stop_ me? So you can hunt monsters in pea-“

“We’ll make you disappear,” Barclay whispers, cool and calm. “You think we haven’t had to before? You think we’re _above_ getting rid of you? Leaving you out in the woods with one of ‘em?” He’s millimeters from Stern’s face, furious and passionate and Stern nearly _wilts._  

Sterns breath catches in his throat at Barclay above him, his tie still in his hand, his eyes colder than Sterns ever seen. But Stern, ever the fool, laughs in Barclays face. _"You wouldn't dare."_ he whispered, doing his best to retain that calm and cool level, " _You_ could never leave me out there to just die. You could’ve, apparently, but you didn’t."

Barclays hand slides from his tie to his throat, and Stern does his best to contain his excitement, knowing this was _serious_ but still loving every second of Barclays fingers around him. "You don't know anything about me," Barclay murmured, staring down at Stern.

"Then tell me," Stern whispers, hating how lightly his voice came out, knowing a slight blush of excitement was creeping up his face, "What don't I know?"

Barclay huffs out a laugh. He's practically on top of Stern at this point, holding him down, also trying to ignore the excitement that gives him. "There's so much," He says, squeezing at Sterns neck, drawing a small gasp from the man, "So much you don't know."

Stern’s angry at the way his eyes roll back at that, toes curling quietly in his socks as he laughs darkly, tipping his chin upward and practically _drooling_ over the feeling of Barclay’s warm, calloused skin against his own. “Aren’t we on the same side? Don’t you _want_ my help,” he breathes, tracing his fingertips up Barclay’s wrist, a suggestion at trying to fight him off. 

“Not at _all,”_ comes Barclay’s snarl, hand pressing harder and fingers squeezing _tighter,_ and he tries to ignore the way Stern’s smile turns euphoric instead of mocking, pleased instead of incredulous.

"You're not on our side," Barclay hisses, hovering over Stern, lips now so close to Sterns ear that Stern can feel his breath. "You're on your own side."

Stern laughs weakly as Barclays grip tightens more, back slightly arching. "I _could_ be on your side," he breathes, turning his face to look at Barclays.

And then Stern shifts, and Barclay can’t help but notice the way his eyes have glazed and how _hot_ his breaths are, and it makes heat coil in his own abdomen. Even so, he shakes it off, ignores it, and practically spits in the agent’s face. “So, what? So you can use us as leverage next time you want _satisfaction?_ Use us to get a promotion?” Stern’s quiet, at that, cheeks flushed somewhere between angry and flustered, and it makes Barclay’s grip falter. “You _like_ this,” he mutters, tauntingly, watching the way Stern’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “You _like_ it when I threaten you. How depraved _are you,_ Stern?”

Stern tries to fight back the shaky moan that threatens to escape him, _tries_ to meet Barclays gaze but knows his own is full of lust and need and want. "I just want the truth, Barclay, don't try to change to subject." He tries to make his voice sound hard but it just sounds _weak_.

"You just want _control_ ," Barclay snaps, grip tightening, face hovering ever so much closer. "And I hate to break it to you, _babe_ , but I'm the one in control. But something tells me you don't mind that." He emphasizes this by pressing his knee between Sterns legs, drawing out a moan that Stern wasn't ready to bite back.

Barclay huffs out a laugh at that, his own voice thick with desire, "God, you really do love this don't you?" 

Stern can't look at him anymore, his eyes screwed shut, breath coming out in slight gasps at everything. He hates how much he wants _this_ , wants the truth, wants Barclay to just take him _now_. He rolls his hips up against Barclays, moaning, hearing the way Barclays breath now catches in his throat. 

"Something tells me," Stern whispers, meeting Barclays eyes again, " _you_ like this too."

Barclay’s breath falters and he feels like a dying man as he suddenly grabs Stern’s jaw, kissing him _furiously,_ and it’s all teeth and fury and heat, and somehow the best thing Barclay has ever done. Stern _keens,_ paws at his chest and tugs him closer, hooking his leg around Barclay’s hips.

 _”Fuck,_ you’re needy,” Barclay laughs, biting Stern’s lip as they part.

Stern moans in response, his usual wit failing him. He feels like putty underneath Barclay, hips rutting up against the other mans, drawing a moan from Barclay. Barclay bites at Sterns neck, reveling in the groan that draws from the agent. "Is _this_ what you wanted, Stern?" Barclay growls against his neck, punctuating it with a sharp bite. Stern struggles to respond, gasping at the way Barclay is now leaving a hickie on his neck.

 _How unprofessional..._ he thinks to himself, the thought lost as Barclay tugs his face to look at him again.

"I asked you a question, Stern," he says, voice husky and deep and oozing sex. “ _Is _this_ what you wanted_?" 

Stern falters.

"God, yes," he breathes before surging forward to catch Barclay in his own kiss full of fire and anger and passion.

One of Barclay’s hands slides roughly up Stern’s shirt, along the planes of his stomach and his chest and _teasing_ him, and it drives Stern fucking insane. He growls, bites Barclay’s lip- and though he wants to fix him with a glare, it’s honestly more of a pout. “Don’t _play_ with me, Barclay,” he spits. “We both-“ he pauses, rolling his hips roughly against Barclay’s own and both groaning quietly, “We both know what we want.”

“Oh, baby,” Barclay purrs, raking his teeth over a hickey and his nails along Stern’s ribcage. His voice is scarily low and Stern wants to drown in it. “You don’t _get_ to make demands.”

Stern lets out a small gasp at that, back arching, hips rocking again against Barclays. "What exactly-" he gasps again as Barclay tugs his shirt back to nip at his collarbone, "What exactly _do_ I get to do?"

Barclay chuckles, a dark sound as he runs a thumb over Sterns nipple, earning a small moan from the man.

"You get to beg."

“Beg?” Stern means to laugh, to mock, but his voice is weak and he _whines,_ turning his head away from Barclay’s intense gaze. “You expect me to _beg_ you,” he murmurs, raising his eyebrows. “I’m not going to-“

Instantly, Barclay’s hand is back, large and heavy and _squeezing,_ hard enough that Stern _wheezes._ “I wasn’t asking,” Barclay murmurs, pupils blown wide and breaths coming short. 

 _”Please,”_ Stern whispers, lips caught in a gasp and feeling swollen _already._ “Touch me, already.”

"That's more like it." Barclays chest rumbles in another chuckle, keeping one hand on Sterns neck, the other snaking down from his chest to palm him. Stern _mewls_ , back arching up, a small sob escaping him. He feels ridiculous and exposed and hates how much he _wants this_. Barclay grabs Sterns pants, ripping them down with a force that has Stern moaning. He slides his hand inside Sterns boxers, taking hold of him _finally_. Sterns head falls to the side, moaning wantonly, praying to God no one can hear him coming absolutely undone.

"That's it, baby," Barclay whispers and Stern can barely handle it.

Barclays lips brush Sterns neck again, teeth grazing the hickie from before. He slides his thumb over Sterns tip with a sharp nip at his neck, and Stern almost loses it. His back arches up again and the cry it draws from him is _definitely_ unprofessional.

" _Please_ Barclay, please, god," he babbles, unable to control himself. 

"If you want something you gotta ask for it." Barclays beard is tickling Sterns neck and all he wants is for Barclay to stop messing with him and take him _now_.

"I want you inside me, okay? _Please_ , is that what you want to he-" Stern is cut off by Barclay capturing his lips in another hungry kiss, growling as he does so. Stern melts against him, tongue meeting Barclays as the mans hand slides away from his erection to the bedside drawer, pulling out a small bottle. He pulls away to slick his fingers up before resuming his assault on Sterns mouth, slipping a finger behind and inside the man beneath him. Stern moans into Barclays mouth, and bites at his lips.

"God, yes, Barclay, please," he can't stop begging now, and hates it but also _loves_ it.

In a contrast to his roughness from earlier, the way Barclay works him open is gentle and methodical, stretching and working and it makes Stern’s thighs tremble.

“God, you’re a mess,” Barclay laughs, thrusting his fingers up sharply to emphasize. Stern wails. “When was the last time you got _laid?”_

Stern’s cheeks flush in anger and embarrassment, and he sputters, too angry and too _horny_ to admit the truth, so he settles for vitriol; laughing darkly against Barclay’s lips even as he moans beneath him. “I could say the same for you, _old man,”_ he whispers. “It’s not like you’re in- in- _shit,_ in high demand, huh?”

"Hmm," Barclay murmurs, looking into Sterns eyes (so angry, so full of lust), "Maybe so, but I'm not nearly as debauched as you right now." He hooks his fingers in _just_ the right way again, causing Stern to throw his head back in a cry. "If only you could see yourself. Hell, what if your _superiors_ saw you like this?" 

Stern moans at that, unable to hide the way that thought spurns him on even more. 

"Oh, you like that?" Barclay asks, "The idea of everyone seeing you like this? So _needy_ , so ready to be taken?" He slips in another finger, chuckling and _god_ Stern could listen to that sound forever.

"Yes _okay_ , god, will you just _fuck me already_?"

Barclay laughs, bites Stern’s jaw and mumbles close to his ear. It makes Stern shiver, makes him arch, makes his mouth fall open in a heady gasp for air. “Don’t worry, baby. Gonna fuck you so hard you forget your fuckin’ name,” he whispers, and Stern digs his fingertips into the sheets below him, writhing under Barclay’s lips. “Just be patient.”

“Be _patient,”_ he spits, hands shifting up and tugging at Barclay’s shirt so hard the buttons pop off. “I’ve been patient since we fucking _met-“_ and he cuts himself off, stops the traitorous words that may be his downfall, and Barclay _pauses._  

“What was that, Stern?”

Stern shoots a glare at Barclay, not necessarily meeting his eyes, wishes he could kick himself. Barclay grabs his chin again, yanking, forcing Stern to look at him. "I said, what was that?" 

" _Nothing_ , fuck." Stern snaps.

“Since we met,” Barclay echoes, staring down at Stern with an unreadable expression. “Have you been wanting me to fuck you _since we met?"_  

“I—“ Stern’s voice is weak and hazy and he can’t _breathe,_ and it feels fantastic. “I- I _may_ have entertained the thought—“

“Yeah? Laying here in the hotel I work at, touching yourself and thinking of me? Is that it, Stern?”

"I already answered you," Stern spits back, or at least tries to, but it's so hard when Barclay twists his fingers just the right way inside him. 

"How many nights have you been in here, just wishing I'd come through that door to fuck you, Stern? Tell me." Barclays voice is husky and thick, and all Stern can do is whine in response. He was so used to being in control, but all he could do was lie under Barclay and beg for more.

Stern gets fed up with the teasing and _yanks_ Barclay’s hair, tugs him into another furiously hot kiss, and practically growls against his lips. “Barclay, if you don’t fuck me, I’m going to do it _myself,”_ he spits, expecting Barclay to double down, but instead, he laughs and sits upright, straddling Stern’s hips. 

“Yeah? You know, I’d _love_ to see the way you fuck yourself and think of me,” Barclay laughs, roughly palming Stern’s dick and making him _wail._ "But maybe if you ask _nicely_..." Barclay whispers, still palming at Stern, watching him writhe underneath him really was a sight.

"God, fuck you," Stern whines. 

"Now that wasn't very nice at all. Looks like you might be fucking yourself tonight, Stern," Barclay muses. 

Stern didn't know how Barclay could look so unbothered, but he hated it. He reached up, raking his nails down Barclays chest, lips parted in a small moan. " _Fuck me, Barclay_." He demanded, "I _know_ you want to, don't fucking play coy with me."

Barclay groans at the scratches and Sterns words, containing his composure was getting harder the more desperate Stern got. He was a mess beneath him and it was all Barclay could do not to fuck him against the bed. But he wanted Stern to whine and beg and plead, the man was so stubborn, seeing him fall apart set Barclay on fire.  
  
"Maybe I do," Barclay growled, "But not nearly as bad as you."

"Bull _shit_ ," Stern snapped, rocking his hips up, "I know you want this, want to teach me a lesson, don't you—"

Barclays hand is at his throat again, lips at his ear, breath hot against him, "Is that what you want, Stern? You want me to teach you a lesson?"

“You want me to teach you a lesson,” he repeats, voice dangerously low and setting each of Stern’s nerves on fire. “You want me to have my way with you? Want me to shove your face into the mattress and fuck you like you mean _nothing?”_ He doesn’t expect Stern to like that— really, he expects more anger. What he _gets,_ though, shocks him- Stern arching and _sobbing,_ lips trembling.

 _”Fuck,_ yes, Barclay, god- _anything,_ anything— but, I-“ He swallows back his words, closing his eyes- and when he speaks again, he’s near deathly silent.

“Want you to _use_ me,” he breathes.

Barclay is almost shook, almost driven to do just _that_ , to take Stern now and fuck him hard until he's wailing his name.

"Well, Stern," he growls, "I think you know what you need to say."

Stern groans, hips bucking up, wishing Barclay would just _do it_ already and stop teasing him like this. Stop drawing out every damn thought he'd had since they met. He grabs Barclays hair, pressing his lips hungrily against the mans, biting and pulling and groaning.

Quietly, breathlessly, he whispers " _Please._ "

A growl rumbles through Barclays chest as he kisses back with the same passion. "What was that Stern?" He says against his lips, biting back, palming at Sterns dick again. Stern moaned, rocking his hips against Barclays hand. 

"I said _please_."

Barclay relents, growling at Sterns begging, unable to hold it back anymore. He yanks down his underwear and grabs the lube again. He watches Stern, meets his eyes as he removes his own pants and slicks himself up. His breath catches in his throat at the _look_ Stern is giving him. Half lidded, mouth hanging slightly open as he watched Barclay. Stern bit his lip, hands gripping the bed sheets.

"Like what you see, baby?"

"God, better than I imagined," Stern breathes, catching both of them off guard with his honesty. Barclay groans, capturing Stern again in a kiss as he lines himself up, and pushes in. He pulls away to bite at Sterns neck as the man almost wails, _finally_ getting what he's been begging so hard for.

"Fuck, yes, Barcla-" Stern gasps as Barclay bottoms out, one hand sliding under his shirt again, the other gripping Sterns hip.

Stern squirms impatiently as Barclay stills for a second. "What are you waiting for, just fuck _me._ "

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Barclay breathes into Sterns ear, "That's no way to get what you want."

Stern groans, trying to move his hips but held firmly in place by Barclays hand. He just wants him to fuck him already, press him down and make him forget everything 

" _Barclay,_ " he whines.

" _Mmmm_ , baby, it's nice to hear you say that but that's not what I'm looking for."

Stern turns his head, meeting Barclays eyes, his lips parted in a pout, and god he hates how debauched he must look right now. Barclays eyes are beautiful and brown and full of something Stern can’t quite place.

But he could get lost in them forever, he realizes, which almost makes him look away.

Instead he swallows his pride, for what feels like the millionth time that night, and pleads. "Barclay, _please_ ," he breathes against the mans lips, "Please fuck me."

"Ah, there we go." Barclay says and presses a kiss against Sterns lips (it's almost too tender, almost makes Sterns heart ache), and then slams into him drawing a wail from Stern that Barclay eagerly swallows with another kiss.

And Stern nearly forgets who he is as Barclay slams into him, hard and fast and desperate, one of Stern’s knees hooked over his shoulder as he leans over him, and Stern wants to _scream._ He settles instead for sobbing into Barclay’s mouth, a steady stream of _yes, Barclay, yes yes_ falling from his lips like he can’t say anything else. His head lolls back, hands practically _tearing_ at the sheets, enjoying the raw slap of skin and the sound of Barclay’s groans.

“Holy _fuck,_ you’re _tight,”_ Barclay whispers, just _now_ starting to sound out of breath and needy.

“No- nnh- your dick is just _huge,”_ Stern says with a laugh, rolling his hips sharply.

“God, _yes-“_

Stern notices the small sound of excitement there, the _need._  

"You like that, Barclay?" He gasps, "Like when I tell you how big and _good_ y- _ah_ how good you are?" Barclays hips stutter, but he keeps going, moaning at Sterns words. Stern snakes his fingers into Barclays hair again, pulling hard. "Because _goddamn_ you're _good_ , you're so fucking good and handsome and _ah_!" He's caught off as Barclay angles his hips just right, hitting him in a spot that throws his whole world askew. "Oh _god_ Barclay, yes, fuck, right _there, right there_ ," he whines, "You're so goddamn _good_."

"You've got-" Barclay groans and bites at Sterns lip, "You've got quite the mouth on you, _don't you_."

"Maybe, but I'm pretty sure you _love it_ ," Stern breathes against Barclays lips, hips rocking with him, "And you love it when I tell you how _big_ you are, how good it feels when you fuck me-" He's cut off again because Barclay is railing into him, hitting that spot that makes him see stars. Stern is reduced to moans, crying for more as Barclay nips at his jaw, neck, his collarbone, leaving marks wherever he can.

"Jesus, Stern," Barclay moans against his neck, placing a kiss there, "you feel so good."

Stern pulls him up for another hungry kiss.

"You feel better," he gasps.

Barclays hips stutter again, he's so used to Stern being so, well... _Stern_ that he's caught off guard by his praising. He groans, licking at Sterns mouth, biting at his lips as he fucks him senseless. Stern, head thrown back now, neck exposed, is a wreck. Moaning out praises and encouraging Barclay to _fuck him_ just _have his way with him_.

"Barclay, god, please let me come, please, please I've been good haven't I?" Stern moans, wailing again as Barclay continues to slam into him.

"God, yes, baby," Barclay breathes, and Stern hates how much he loves it when Barclay calls him by that stupid pet name, "You've been so god _damn good_."

"Then, please, Barclay," Stern gasps, hips bucking up involuntarily, "Please let me come, you're so good, please-" And then Barclays hand is wrapped around Stern, and he's swiping at the tip, twisting his wrist, pulling sounds from Stern he never thought he'd hear.

When Stern comes it's followed by a string of _god yes, please, thank you barclay fuck_ and Barclay can feel how close _he_ is. Stern reaches up then, grips Barclay by the hair, and makes him look at him.

"Don't you dare stop, _come for me, Barclay_ ,” he demands, hearing Barclay’s breath stutter out at that. “God you're so good, so big, you know just how to fuck me—" Stern gasps as Barclay rams into him harder before suddenly giving one last thrust and moaning.

"Fuck, Stern-" He gasps as Stern pulls him in for another kiss, letting him ride through his orgasm. The two are left breathless then, looking into each others eyes, unable to really discern how the other felt.

Stern covers his eyes with his hand, breathless and panting and covered in _fluids,_ and at some point Barclay has collapsed on top of him, head pressed to his shoulder and lips pressing senseless, soft kisses to his shoulder. It’s softer than Stern deserves, and it tastes bitter in his mouth. 

“Jesus- fuckin’ hell, Stern,” Barclay mutters. “I- holy _shit.”_

“... You’re gonna have to be more specific than spouting expletives at me,” he mutters back, staring at the ceiling through his fingers and _begging_ his heartbeat to stop stuttering.

Barclay sighs, pulling out, but not leaving Sterns side. Instead he continues pressing light kisses to Stern, to his neck, his jaw, anywhere he can get. Sterns heart continues to pound at the gentle treatment, unsure of what to do in response. Everyone always just _left_ after this, they never did...whatever this was. 

"You're amazing," Barclay finally mutters against Stern's jaw before pressing another soft, tender kiss there.

The kindness makes Stern’s heart ache, and he says nothing as Barclay sinks lower, flat of his tongue lapping at Stern’s stomach to clean up the mess there— and the action is simultaneously so _sexy_ and so _tender_ that Stern’s torn between gasping and shoving Barclay away. In the end he does nothing, just _watches,_ _moving his hand away from his face, eyebrows knitted together in confusion_ _._ “Tastes good,” Barclay mumbles, dotting kisses along the v of Stern’s hips, and Stern twitches.

“What are you doing?” Stern can’t help the comment, the bitterness in his voice- and Barclay blinks.

“Uh- aftercare?”

“Right. Why?”

Barclays eyebrows furrow at that. "Why?" he repeats, confusion evident in his voice.

"Yes, you heard me." Stern says, embarrassed almost.

Barclay licks up another spot, slowly, eyes closed in bliss, considering his answer. "Because I care," he murmurs against Sterns skin, placing a kiss so gentle that Stern doesn't know _what_ to do.

"Care about _what_?" Stern laughs, but its a hollow laugh, one meant to conceal his ridiculous insecurities. 

Barclay moves up then, arms on either side of Sterns head, hovering. Stern can't look anywhere but his stupid, beautiful eyes. "Care about you, Stern, obviously."

Stern frowns, he doesn't know what to _do_ , just knows he's confused and not used to this.

Barclay kisses Stern then, wants that frown to disappear from that beautiful face.

"You weren't the only one thinking about this since we met," Barclay admits quietly, placing a shy kiss to his shoulder. 

Stern lets a small, shaky breath escape him, unsure how he's supposed to feel about _that_. He looks down, meeting Barclays eyes. They're still so beautiful, but look so vulnerable now, and Sterns breath catches in his throat. He reaches down, lightly taking Barclays jaw in his hand, pulling him up to give him a small kiss, as gentle as he can muster, unable to put into words how he feels, hoping _this_ is enough. Barclay hums, quietly, a happy noise that sets Sterns stupid heart aflutter.

"You do realize," Stern whispers, pulling ever so slightly away, "we still have a great deal to talk about."

Barclay _hmms_ at that, pressing another kiss to Sterns lips.

"Maybe, but for now, baby," he settles next to Stern, pulling him into his chest, resting his head atop the other mans, "for now, we should rest."

And for once, Stern accepted this, uncharacteristically letting himself nuzzle his face against Barclays chest, for once letting himself just enjoy being cared for.

They had an interesting talk ahead of them, but Stern decided this was enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! if you haven't read pennydown's work please do because they're amazing and their writing is great! 
> 
> also I'm in sternclay hell!!!


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